Flashes
by clarasmillionpieces
Summary: The Doctor is worried about Clara. His Impossible Girl seems to be fine, but is she, really? Set after The Name of the Doctor (don't read it if you haven't seen the episode!) A/N This is my first ever fanfic, so please be kind! Reviews/feedback welcome!
1. Chapter 1: One of those Too Much Days

**Flashes**

_a Whoufflé Fanfic_

by Clarasmillionpieces

Rated: K

_Summary: The Doctor is worried about Clara. His Impossible Girl seems to be fine, but is she, really? Set after The Name of the Doctor (don't read it if you haven't seen the episode!) _

A/N This is my first ever fanfic, so please be kind! Reviews/feedback welcome!

Rated: K, 1415 Words

Ch. 1/?

_Chapter 1: One of those "Too Much" Days _

The Doctor held Clara in his arms, cradled like a child. Climbing out of your own time-stream with a twenty-four year old girl in one arm and a sonic screwdriver in another is more difficult in practice than it is in theory. Still they had escaped intact, much to the surprise of the Paternoster Gang, who were still standing in the Doctor's "tomb" when they returned. The tiny troop moved through the gravestones surrounding the fields of the Doctor's final battle in silence. Today had been one of those "too much" days, when words just failed. The doors to the TARDIS opened when the Doctor snapped his fingers, though the machine made an angry whirring noise at him as they walked inside. Too many paradoxes in one day. "Oi, you shut up!" snapped the Doctor, "You know I had to." The TARDIS quieted, leaving only the gentle humming of the engines.

Jenny, Vastra, and Strax followed the Doctor into the TARDIS, looking at Clara warily. The Doctor placed her in the pilot's chair. She didn't stir. "Will she be alright?" asked Jenny, her voice trembling a little. "Oh, she'll be fine!" the Doctor reassured, "I think...well, I hope." His face fell, the childish mask fell away, and the old man began to show behind the Doctor's eyes. Vastra moved behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder, "We all do." "Don't worry, sir!" Strax chimed in, "If the boy does die, he will have died in glorious battle! A better fate than living, surely!" Jenny clapped a hand to her forehead, and Vastra glared daggers at the potato in a suit. The Doctor, however, let out a gentle laugh. "Shut up, Strax," he said, smiling.

After dropping the Paternoster Gang back in their proper time, the Doctor strolled back to the console. "Right," he thought, "bedtime." Clara needed rest. Being ripped into a million pieces by time-winds will do that. Even the Doctor, who rarely needed sleep, was beginning to think he could do with 40 winks. He picked her up off the pilot's chair and carried her to the bedroom that she had claimed as her space in the TARDIS. The Doctor usually dropped Clara off at the Maitland's home after their adventures, but on occasion, she had stayed long enough to need sleep. As he stared around the bedroom, the Doctor had to admit, the girl had style. The walls were a pale sea foam green that reminded him of a lake on a moon he'd once visited where the butterflies were the size of frizbees. The room was scattered with antique furniture, all in pastels, looking well worn. An armchair sat in one corner, next to a bookshelf that was basically empty, as all its contents had been strewn across the floor in the hunt for a particular volume. The walls were covered in travel posters from places the Doctor and Clara had been and some they had not. It suited her perfectly.

The Doctor carried Clara to the big bed in the center of the room, parting the white gauzy hangings to place the girl in the middle. He tucked her in, noting how peaceful she looked, how small and innocent. It might all change when she woke up. He tried to savor the moment while he could. His Clara, his impossible girl: safe, sound, and whole again, he hoped.

She slept for days. The Doctor began to worry that she wouldn't wake up. She was so still, like a princess in a fairytale. "Let her mind protect itself," the Doctor repeated to himself, "let her mind protect itself. She'll wake up when she's ready..." It went on and on like a mantra in his head. Two days, three days, five, six. He kept bringing her tea and Jammy Dodgers. He didn't really know what else to do. He only knew that he wanted her to feel appreciated when she woke up. Feel safe. Feel loved. She had saved him so many times. He was getting used to the idea in his head, coping with the new-old memories. A face in a photograph, a voice through the ages. She had always been there would always be there. Saving him at every step. Even through the times when he had felt so alone, when it felt like there was no one else in the universe, she was there. His silent shadow. Now, he couldn't save her, and it didn't sit well in his hearts.

The Doctor was in the kitchen making yet another cup of tea, when her eyes had finally fluttered open. When he returned, he found her staring at the ceiling, her expression inscrutable. "Clara?" the Doctor approached cautiously, wondering if she was having some kind of episode. She didn't acknowledge his presence in the room. "Clara are you alright?" Her flick and locked onto his. Before she could blink, he was hugging her, tightly. "Oh, Clara! My impossible girl!" He kissed her the top of her head.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything? I can you get you more tea! I think this cup's gone cold."

"Doctor?"

"Well, it has been fifty-two seconds since I put it in the mug. What about Jammie Dodgers? I thought I put some in here, earlier."

"Doctor"

"Someone must have eaten them! I really must look into that mysterious Jammie Dodger thief." "DOCTOR! You are crushing my windpipe!"

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" he helped, jumping back like someone had burned him.

Clara stretched while giving the Doctor an annoyed look. "It's okay." She glanced around the room. Not much had changed since the last time she'd been there, except for the sight of sixteen cups of tea scattered in various places and a plate with crumbs on it that must have once held some Jammie Dodgers. Her eyes met the Doctor's. "How long have been out?"

"About a week, I think. We've been in the vortex."

"Oh. Okay. Survived, then?" She smiled wanly.

"Survived." He smirked. "Do you mind if I?" He pulled out his sonic and gestured to it.

"If you must."

The Doctor waved the sonic over Clara. "Perfectly normal," he surmised, glancing at the readout. He breathed a sigh of relief. "How much do you remember, Clara?" "I remember Trenzalore. Jumping into your time-stream...the time-winds...so _strong, _blowing me everywhere..." The Doctor winced. "There were people...men...eleven men, they were you, but they weren't, and then it was only you. You were there. Wait, maybe...was someone else there, too?" The Doctor closed his eyes. She looked away as if trying to remember something. "Maybe not. It all went kind of fuzzy."

"Alright, don't try to remember it all, Clara. You don't want to strain yourself, you're still weak. Oh, my Impossible Girl. Where would I be without you?"

"Dead, actually and properly dead."

"Right, actually and properly dead." He smiled. "How about that cuppa, then?"

"Yes, please!" She moved to get out of the bed.

"No no no!" the Doctor moved towards her, "Stay there, I'll get it!"

"But Doctor-"

"No buts! You need to rest!" She settled back onto the pillows, frowning: "Fine." He stumbled out of the room, nearly tripping on the books on the floor. "Back in a mo'!" he called from the corridor. "Sure!" she called back, giggling. Were his legs even attached to his body?

Her eyes wandered around the room. She needed to clean up those books. Her mother would have been appalled at the mess. Her eyes landed on the mirror on the dressing table across from the bed. She looked a little worse for wear. She leaned forward to get a better look. The image in the mirror blurred, and her head began to hurt, like she'd spent a whole night studying for an exam. The image came back into focus, but it was, somehow, different. Her hair was longer, curling at the shoulders. She looked again. Her hair hadn't been that long in years. The face scrunched up just as her did. Was she wearing lipstick? She couldn't have been?

"On my way back!" the Doctor should from somewhere down the hall.

"_Chin-boy_...?" she whispered faintly.

"Okay tea-time for the Impossible Girl!" The Doctor sidled into the room with a tray. "Clara?" He turned toward her. The tray clattered to the floor. The sound of shattering china filled the room.

_End of Chapter 1 _


	2. Chapter 2: Echoes

_**Previously:** Her eyes landed on the mirror on the dressing table across from the bed. She looked a little worse for wear. She leaned forward to get a better look. The image in the mirror blurred, and her head began to hurt, like she'd spent a whole night studying for an exam. The image came back into focus, but it was, somehow, different. Her hair was longer, curling at the shoulders. She looked again. Her hair hadn't been that long in years. The face scrunched up just as her did. Was she wearing lipstick? She couldn't have been? _

"_On my way back!" the Doctor should from somewhere down the hall. _

"_Chin-boy...?" she whispered faintly. _

"_Okay tea-time for the Impossible Girl!" The Doctor sidled into the room with a tray. _

"_Clara?" _

_He turned toward her. The tray clattered to the floor. The sound of shattering china filled the room. _

Chapter 2: Echoes

"Clara!" the Doctor rushed towards his companion. She was lying on the floor, face-up and shaking. Her eyes darted back and forth rapidly under their lids, as if she was in a deep sleep. The sight of her washed over him like a bucket of ice water. No, not again. He'd just gotten her back. He couldn't lose someone else, another wound to his hearts, already too battered for words.

"CLARA! CLARA! CAN YOU HEAR ME?" the Doctor shouted, kneeling over her.

He held her down, keeping her limbs from thrashing, checking to see that she hadn't swallowed her tongue.

"It's real..."she kept muttering, "It's all real...not a dream...It's not..."

The Doctor ran his screwdriver up and down Clara's body. Her mental activity readings were off the charts. Her mind should have been burning; it might already be burning. He had to wake her up, snap her out of it.

"Eggs...eggs stir," Clara kept murmuring, "Exterminate."

"NO!" the Doctor screamed, "No. I won't lose you. Come on, Clara. My Impossible Girl, wake up!"

He shook her, trying to rouse her from the deadly trance. She didn't move.

"Clara I am really sorry about this, but you have to WAKE UP!"

The Doctor slapped Clara across the face. Clara's eyes shot open and focused on him.

"Oh, thank goodness!" sighed the Doctor, finally exhaling, "I can see why River does that so often."

Clara's expression turned from dazed to furious within a few seconds.

"You slapped me!"

"Well, yes, Clara, but it was actually necess-"

"YOU. SLAPPED. ME!"

"You were having some kind of fit!"

"YOU ACTUALLY SLAPPED ME!"

"I'M SORRY! Okay! I'm sorry. I'm sorry it had to come to that, but I had to wake you up. What happened? What do you remember?"

"I looked in the mirror, and my face looked different. My hair was longer and curly, I was wearing...red lipstick? It's strange. Like I was me...but I wasn't. I could smell something, like something baking, mixed with something else...maybe...motor oil? I kept thinking about eggs."

Clara noted that the Doctor winced.

She continued, "It was like...I was remembering-"

"One of your other lives?" the Doctor interrupted, his expression solemn.

She looked up at him, fearful.

"Can I do it? Actually remember them?"

"It would appear so. Though, I'm not one for the effects."

"Which one was I remembering?" Clara asked, cautiously.

"I wouldn't know. I didn't see all of your echoes Clara. I barely even noticed you, saving me all those years."

He clapped his hands on his knees as he stood up. She followed suit and then poked him in the chest.

"You noticed this one. I saw you flinch. You know what I was remembering. Rule one, right?ʽThe Doctor lies̕. I've known you for too long to forget that, Doctor, even if I can't remember everything."

His eyebrow furrowed. Pouting face.

"Fine. Yes, I remember her...you."

"Well?"

"I don't see why we need to discuss it!"

"We do certainly need to discuss it. I _was her_, sort of. I have some of her memories. I want to know who she was!"

"Her name was Oswin Oswald, Junior Entertainment Manager for the Starship Alaska," the Doctor frowned as he recalled Oswin's words, "Her ship crashed into the Dalek Asylum. She died saving Amy, Rory, and me."

The tone of his voiced said that this was all he had to say on the matter, but Clara pressed him further.

"But who _was _she? What happened to her?"

The Doctor glanced at Clara. He didn't want to discuss the countless times she'd died for him. He didn't deserve that kind of sacrifice from anyone, especially her. Still, for all of it, for what she did, he owed her something.

"I didn't really get much of a chance to get to know her. She was clever, really clever, astronomically clever. Tricked Dalek technology, hacked into it. Those kinds of skills are one in a trillion!"

She could see the child shining in the Dotor's eyes. She smiled despite herself. For someone over a thousand years old, he could still act like an eight year old.

"She like baking souffles! Souffles, against the Daleks, can you imagine!"

He flailed his arms around as Clara giggled, but then a thought occurred to her.

"Wait a minute. Souffles? But don't you need milk and eggs and stuff to make a souffle? Where could she have possibly gotten those in a Dalek Asylum? Did she, like, hack the computer to make it materialize food, like in the Jetsons?"

The Doctor's face fell. The child was gone, and the old man appeared. He couldn't look at Clara as he explained.

"She didn't need milk and eggs. It was all a dream, the eggs, the milk, the souffles. Her whole world. She made it up because the truth was too awful."

"I don't understand," said Clara, "Was she ill or something? Up here?" She gestured toward her head.

"No," the Doctor grunted, "She was so clever, so very clever, and the Daleks need cleverness. They converted her, a full conversion."

"Converted her? As in...," Clara trailed off.

"Yes, as in, they turned her into one of them, but she fought them tooth and nail. Even after it was over, she was still fighting them in her mind. She blew up the Asylum to save me from them, and then she wiped any trace of me from their collective memory base. Magnificent, she was."

Clara wiped tears from her eyes, "Sorry," she croaked, "I don't know why I'm crying."

She tried to remember the girl that was a part of her. It came in quick flashes.

_Cold, terrible cold. Like she'd been sledding for hours with no hot chocolate. The smell of metal, sparks, and something else that was metallic, but not quite. _

"Clara, stop it!" the Doctor ordered.

"Huh?"

The Doctor grabbed her face, forcing her to focus on him.

"You can't keep trying to remember. It'll kill you! Look at your hand."

She looked down and saw that her hand was shaking uncontrollably. She held it in the other to stop the tremors.

"But... I can't always help it. Sometimes it just comes...in flashes."

The Doctor rubbed his temples, brow furrowing.

_His thinking face_, she thought.

"Ahhhhh, alright. There's someone we need to see." He grabbed her hand and led her into the hall.

"Who? Where are we going? What happened to bed-rest?"

"Later," he affirmed, his face like stone.

The Doctor and Clara stood outside of a grand house on Paternoster Road. The Doctor stared forward at the large door, while Clara glanced nervously at the scandalized looks that her rather short skirt was earning her.

"Doctor, shouldn't I have changed? It's Victorian London, after all," Clara asked with a wince.

"No time," the Doctor grumbled, "We'll be in the house in a minute."

He rang the bell. In a few seconds, the door was opened by a petite brunette with a pretty face and a cockney accent.

"Doctor! We weren't expecting you! And Clara, hello! Come in. Better get her off the street looking like that!"

"Sorry, Jenny, no time to change."

"No trouble, I'll just let Madame know you're here. Strax!" Jenny called.

Clara never tired of the seeing the little potato in a suit hobble into the room.

"Prepare to be obliterated for the glory of the Sontaran Empire!" he exclaimed.

Jenny and the Doctor rolled their eyes. Clara let out a giggle.

"I mean..." Strax thought for a moment, "May I take your coats?"

Clara let out a gasp.

"Hang on a minute? Have we done this bit before?"

The memory wafted through her mind in flashes.

_A blue dress. Her hair pulled up in a smart bun. There was snow falling outside. "Do not attempt to escape, or you will be obliterated! May I take your coat?"_

Clara sucked in a large breath.

"We have. We have done this before. Was it us? ...Was it me?"

She looked up into the shocked faces of Jenny, the Doctor, and Strax. Her knees gave out, and she braced herself against the wall.

"Oh no you don't!" the Doctor said, scooping her up, "Not again! Jenny where can I put her?"

"In the parlor, there's a couch."

The Doctor carried Clara through a set of sliding doors, into the parlor, where he laid her on an ornate fainting couch. He set her head atop an exquisitely embroidered pillow.

"Strax! Help! Now!" the Doctor ordered.

"Out of the way!" the Sontaran sidled forward, extracting a small device from his jacket-pocket, just as the swishing of skirts announced Madame Vastra's arrival.

"What's going on? Doctor? What are you doing here? What is wrong with Clara?"

"Not now, Vastra, please."

The little butler scanned Clara's body with the strange little device. He glanced and the screen: "The boy shows signs of abnormal brain activity, too much for a human. If this continues his body will shut down."

"Well DO SOMETHING THEN!" yelled Jenny.

Strax tapped the device against Clara's temple. There was a small spark. Clara's eyes flew open.

"There you go. Simple cranial restart."

"Thank you, Strax," the Doctor clapped the Sontaran on the shoulder as he knelt down to smooth the hair off of Clara's face.

"Doctor? What's happening to me?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Strax," he said "what could you tell from your readings."

"Sir, it appears that his brain goes into hyperactive state when recalling his past lives. There is too much information inside his mind. It can't contain it."

"Is there something that can be done, Doctor?" Vastra asked, ignoring Strax's gender confusion. Her eyes full of concern. She had subconsciously grabbed Jenny's hand, remembering what it had been like to lose her.

"Yes- there is something. I've done it before. Another...friend of mine. She had a similar condition. Donna Noble was her name."

The name stirred something in the back of Clara's memory.

"Donna? Donna Noble? But, you told me about her, about what you had to do..." Her eyes grew wide in terror. "No, NO! You're not going to do that to me. Doctor, you can't!"

_End of Chapter 2 _


	3. Chapter 3: Long Ago and Far Away

_**Previously:** "Doctor? What's happening to me?" _

"_I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Strax," he said "what could you tell from your readings." _

"_Sir, it appears that his brain goes into hyperactive state when recalling his past lives. There is too much information inside his mind. It can't contain it." _

"_Is there something that can be done, Doctor?" Vastra asked, ignoring Strax's gender confusion. Her eyes full of concern. She had subconsciously grabbed Jenny's hand, remembering what it had been like to lose her. _

"_Yes- there is something. I've done it before. Another...friend of mine. She had a similar condition. Donna Noble was her name." _

_The name stirred something in the back of Clara's memory. _

"_Donna? Donna Noble? But, you told me about her, about what you had to do..." Her eyes grew wide in terror. "No, NO! You're not going to do that to me. Doctor, you can't!"_

**Chapter 3: Long Ago and Far Away **

"If it's the only way to keep you alive, Clara, then I'll do it. I found a way to cope once; I'll do it again!" the Doctor bellowed.

"_You'll_ cope? What about _me_?" Clara gave as good as she got, her eyes brimming with tears, "I'm the one who will forget everything we've ever done. Everything _I've _ever done. This is _my choice_, and if you think I'm gonna stand by while you ruin my life, you've got another thing coming, Chin!"

She punched him hard on the arm.

"If I die, then I die, but I die as me," she shrilled, " Not some shameful shell you left behind because you were too selfish to let me go."

She punched him hard on the arm. He rubbed the spot. There would be a bruise. She was stronger than she looked. He looked away, awkwardly. He'd never thought of what he did to Donna as selfish. He'd been helping her, saving her. She might not have had the same life, but she had a good life. She had a life, _period_. Clearly, Clara had other ideas.

"Clara, you can't just throw your life away for a few useless memories! You'll get on without me. You can be happy, see the all those places in your book, settle down, have a family? Think of it as a different kind of adventure. The kind of life I could never have."

"Oh no, don't you even give me that speech because it's crap, and you know it! I-"

Strax stood between them.

"If I might interject sir," he said, glancing down at his scanner, "It seems we might have what the human scum call a ʻplan B.ʼ"

"Shut up, Strax!" the Doctor shouted, shoving the Sontaran away without so much as a glance, "Clara, you have to-"

The Doctor stopped. His eyes widened. He turned to face the potato in coattails.

"Wait. What did you just say?"

"I said," replied Strax, pulling himself up to his full (albeit still not so impressive) height, "It seems we might have what the human scum call a ʻplan B.ʼ"

The Doctor rushed at the Sontaran, picked him up, and twirled him around like a small child.

"Strax, the best Sontaran in all of Sontaraness, I could kiss you!"

"Sir, put me down at once, or I will be forced to get my grenades!"

The Doctor set the now rather befuddled butler on his feet.

"Sorry, Strax. So! What is plan B?"

He knelt down to get a better look at the Sontaran, who now had the most beautiful face in the world, as far as he was concerned.

"We need to talk to a Timelord"

The Doctor's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Strax, I am the only Timlelord left in the universe. Is there something _I_ can do?"

"No, sir. We need a different Timelord."

"STRAX, THERE ARE NO MORE TIMELORDS! I AM THE ONLY ONE LEFT!"

"But you're not, sir." Strax gestured toward Clara.

"Me?"

Clara looked stunned. Strax was never really all there, but he was sane for the most part. This was a far leap beyond crazy.

"Strax, I'm not from another planet. I'm from a place called Lancashire."

"No, boy!" the Sontaran responded, gruffly, "I'm not talking about _you _you. I'm talking about another you. A _different_ you. In a _different_ time. According to my secondary mental history scan, your mind, at least in in some form, was once a mechanic in a TARDIS maintenance center on the planet Gallifrey."

Clara let out a disbelieving chuckle.

"I really don't think that's possible, Strax. I'm sure the Doctor would remember if I were a Timelady at some point. Right, Doc-"

Her voice faded as she saw his distant expression. He was remembering something. The Doctor's hearts thudded against his chest as he thought back to that very first day. The day he ran away from it all.

_A TARDIS workshop. Ushering Susan quickly down the hall. Got to get out. Got to get out. Go on. Go on. Move on. Don't look back. Never look back. _

"_Doctor? Doctor?" _

_A small figure in a workwoman's smock. Too small for a mechanic. _

"_Yes, what is it? What do you want?" _

"_Sorry, but you're about to make a very big mistake." _

_It's over, we've been found out. _

_A tiny smirk. She leaned on a TARDIS. _

"_Don't steal that one. Steal this one. The navigation system's knackered, but you'll have much more fun." _

"Doctor?" Madame Vastra roused him from the memory, "Strax is certainly mistaken, isn't he? There is no way Clara could have been a Timelady. You would know. Wouldn't you?"

The Doctor didn't answer. Instead, he knelt beside the couch and took Clara's hand in his.

"Doctor?" Clara asked, nervously.

"You were there. The very first day. The day it all began, when I left Gallifrey. You were _there_."

"But, I can't have been. The real me is human, remember? Could my..._echoes _have been another species? They were patterned after me."

"It's like your mum said," the Doctor shrugged, "ʻthe souffle isn't the souffle the souffle is the recipe.ʼ Your thought pattern, the mission to save my life, was always there. Your biology did not have to necessarily remain intact. Humans and Timelords aren't vastly different in terms of DNA. Slight changes could have been made in the time-stream..."

Clara paused, trying to absorb this new information. Parts of her might not have been human? It just didn't compute.

"But, if I was a Timelady _once_, how does that help me _now_?"

"Well, Timelords and Timeladies are programmed to cope with memories from thousands of human lives. Just look at me. We can live for thousands of years, so we have methods of storing it all. Up here." He pointed to his temple.

Clara shook her head. He wasn't making sense. It wasn't anything new, but she was getting annoyed.

"But, Doctor. I. Am. Not. A. Timelady. At least not now. I might have been once, but I've got a regular-old human brain in this existence."

The Doctor jumped to his feet, turned around, and whirled a very shocked Jenny into what was supposed to be a dance. Madame Vastra blushed a darker green.

"Ah, but you see, Clara," he said as he moved Jenny across the parlor, "The mind is a beautiful thing!" He twirled Jenny around and then strode over to the couch. He lowered his head to Clara's eye level, shaking his floppy hair in her face.

"Look at my head? Does it look much bigger than yours? My brain is just as big as your brain. It's just wired a little bit differently. Timelord hardware!"

She grabbed his face and lifted it, so he was looking at her. She pretended to examine him closely.

"Hmmm... I don't know. Are you sure it doesn't just extend down into your chin? It would explain some things."

She tapped the offending appendage.

"Haha. Very funny, Clara, but don't you see what this means? We don't have to lock your memories away. We have to unlock them. Find the part of you that was a Timelady. We can use those memories to re-wire your brain. Make it thousand-lives compatible!"

He kissed her on the forehead and pulled her into a tight hug. His Clara. He was going to keep her. Forever, maybe. Forever for her, at least.

"Just one problem," Clara mumbled, her voice muffled by his chest, "Those memories go back. _Way back_. How am I going to get to them without dying?"

The Doctor pulled away and held her at an arms length, gazing at her with that wild look in his eyes.

"Oh, that's half the fun!"

He stood and held out his hand.

"Miss Oswald, are you ready for a new adventure?"

She smiled up at him. Her first real, beaming smile in a long time. She placed her hand in his.

"Always."

"Well, then. Geronimo."

_End of Chapter 3 _

___A/N I am using Timelord and Gallifreyan interchangeably for this fic because that seems to be the norm for New Who. In Classic Who and other Doctor Who stories, it has been said that Timelord is a rank, not a species. I just chose to go another direction. I'm also basing some of my theories on ideas that have been brewing in my head since we found out that River was "human plus timelord." __**Thank you so much for reading this fic! Reviewers receive souffles baked with love. Okay, maybe not, but I do love you all! **_


	4. Chapter 4: Memory Lane

_**Previously: **"You were there. The very first day. The day it all began, when I left Gallifrey. You were there." " _

"_It's like your mum said," the Doctor shrugged, "ʻthe souffle isn't the souffle the souffle is the recipe.ʼ Your thought pattern, the mission to save my life, was always there. Your biology did not have to necessarily remain intact. Humans and Timelords aren't vastly different in terms of DNA. Slight changes could have been made in the time-stream..." _

"_But, if I was a Timelady once, how does that help me now?" _

"_Well, Timelords and Timeladies are programmed to cope with memories from thousands of human lives. Just look at me. We can live for thousands of years, so we have methods of storing it all. Up here." He pointed to his temple. _

"_Just one problem," Clara mumbled, her voice muffled by his chest, "Those memories go back. Way back. How am I going to get to them without dying?" _

_The Doctor pulled away and held her at an arms length, gazing at her with that wild look in his eyes. _

"_Oh, that's half the fun!" _

_He stood and held out his hand. _

"_Miss Oswald, are you ready for a new adventure?" _

_She smiled up at him. Her first real, beaming smile in a long time. She placed her hand in his. _

"_Always." _

"_Well, then. Geronimo." _

**Chapter 4: Memory Lane**

"Where are we going?" Clara asked as the Doctor dragged her through the foyer and out the door of the grand old house on Paternoster Row.

"To the TARDIS! The telepathic circuits will help with the process!" the Doctor replied with a happy giggle.

"WHAT PROCESS?" Clara pressed.

The Doctor didn't answer. He paused briefly on the step and turned to face the very stunned faces of Madame Vastra, Jenny, and Strax.

"Madame...Jenny...Strax," he paused and nodded briefly to each of them, "As usual, I can't thank you enough. I expected you'll see me again, in time."

He turned and bounded off to the TARDIS with Clara in tow.

Madame Vastra sighed, turning into the foyer. She slipped her hand into Jenny's.

"Oh that impossible man! He always leaves me breathless."

"Don't forget about that impossible girl. She's quite clever isn't she?" said Jenny, smirking.

"Was she a girl?" Strax asked with a frown.

Jenny and Vastra exchanged a look. The Doctor may come and go, but some things will never change.

The Doctor whirled Clara into the console room before bounding down the stairs to the storage room.

"Doctor! Would you mind explaining _what the hell is going on_?"

"I know it's down here somewhere!"

"WHAT IS DOWN THERE?"

There was no answer. Just a lot of banging, crashing, clanking, and general ruckus.

"DOCTOR!" Clara folded her arms and tapped her toe.

"Found it!"

She heard his footsteps as he raced up the stairs. He was holding what looked like two tiaras connected with bits of glinting silver wire. The silver metal bands were engraved with a beautiful circular pattern. It looked like art, but Clara knew that it was Gallifreyan the language of the Timelords. Clara gave the Doctor a look.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a collective memory bank of sorts," he explained, fiddling with the strange device, "Timelords used it to communicate historical information. Speech can only go so far in recounting history. Sometimes you have to live it!"

"Live it?"

"Yeah. This allows the free-flow of data from your mind to mind. Timelords can use telepathy, but this method is safer. I can access your mind, but it protects my information from you."

"Well that doesn't seem very fair!" scoffed Clara.

"Timelords didn't really care about fair when it came to gathering information," the Doctor replied with a frown.

"Seem like a cheerful lot, your people."

"They were your people once, too."

He tapped the device.

"There's another benefit to using this," the Doctor explained, "With this device, you can use my excess memory space to hold your extra memories. It'll provide a buffer for the information processing that you'll need to do in order to make the journey all the way back to those first memories."

"You make my brain sound like a computer."

"The two concepts aren't vastly different. The connection will break when we remove the device, but at least we can stop you from dying along the way."

"So we can find her," Clara looked up, her expression hopeful, "I mean me. The me who was on Gallifrey."

The Doctor broke into his goofy grin.

"Down the rabbit hole, Clara?"

"Yes, please!"

The Doctor pulled two chairs into the center of the console room. He placed them directly across from one another. He sat in one, and motioned for Clara to sit in the other. She hesitated. The prospect of traveling into her memories had seemed exciting a minute ago, but now she wasn't so sure. She knew what reliving her past lives could mean. She had been born to save the Doctor, and she had done what she was born to do. However, there were consequences. Everything was fuzzy, but she knew that a number of her lives had not ended well. She was born, she lived, and she died. She died saving him, knowing it was the right thing to do. It didn't stop the pain or the fear when it happened. The Doctor caught the look on Clara's face. He didn't need telepathy to know what had put it there. He stood abruptly and pulled her into a tight hug. She buried her face in his shoulder.

"I'm scared," she confessed, her voice breaking.

"I know, Clara. I know. But you've _got _to do this. You're my impossible girl, remember? Capable of impossible things and _impossible_ courage. We'll get through this together."

He kissed the top of her head. She pulled away, wiping a tear from her eye. She coughed, then looked up at him with a wavering smile.

"Yeah, together."

They sat across from each other. The Doctor placed the metal circlet on his head first, then handed the other to Clara. She put it on.

"Okay. Now, hold my hands," said the Doctor gently.

Clara did as she was told. The Doctor slowly began to enter her mind. Sending tendrils of thought through the device.

"Close your eyes," he continued, "Relax. You are in a safe place. You are with me. I am protecting you. Nothing bad can happen to you here, Clara. You are safe and warm and loved."

The Doctor felt a little jolt of electricity shoot through her mind at the world "loved." He didn't want to think about what that meant. He ignored it and pressed further.

"Just keep breathing."

He checked her pulse with the tips of his fingers. It was calm and even.

"Okay. I want to imagine your leaf, Clara. That wonderful leaf. Everything you are or ever were. See it before you."

The leaf came into focus in front of their closed lids.

"Good..." cooed the Doctor, "very good. Now imagine it blowing, Clara. It's blowing through your lives. Through all of them: past, present, future. It's swirling around on the breeze."

The leaf began to move slowly at first, but then gaining speed.

"Great. Great job. Now grab hold of it, Clara. Follow it. Follow where it's going."

The leaf continued down a spinning path, faster and faster. The Doctor could fell them moving with it. It was being pulled toward a light, like the end of a tunnel.

"_Wonderland_," the Doctor thought.

They stood in a large courtyard. She could smell the ocean. It was warm and sunny. Definitely not England. There were palm tress swaying in the breeze.

"Where are we?" The Doctor asked.

Clara hesitated. It was like remembering a dream from long ago.

"My...school...I went to school here. We're in California. The University of California, San Diego campus. I remember. 1966. I wanted to go to Berkeley, but my mom said they were ʻtoo radicalʼ up there."

Someone nearby cleared their throat. The Doctor and Clara turned. Another Clara sat in the middle of blanket, books scattered around her, a notebook in her lap. She held a bottle of Coca-cola in her hand.

"Who exactly are you?"

Her voice sounded like Clara's, but her accent was distinctly American.

"_Of course,_" Clara thought "_I wasn't English all the time._"

"Well?" the copy said impatiently, "Is anyone gonna explain why this chick looks exactly like me?"

The Doctor evaded the question: "No clue. Weird, though. Universe is funny like that...cosmic twins and all. Hi, I'm John and this is Susan. She's looking to maybe attend school here one day."

"One day? She looks old enough to go now."

Clara spoke up: "Transfer student."

"Cool. Do you need someone to show you around campus?"

The Doctor was about to make a polite excuse so they could move on, but Clara had other ideas.

"Sure!" she blurted out too quickly, "that sounds great."

"Cool! Just give me a sec."

The copy began to gather up her books and blanket, shoving them into a backpack.

"What are you doing?" the Doctor whispered urgently.

"Come on, humor me. I want to know more about her."

"This is dangerous, you could-"

"I can help you with that!"

Clara bent down to hand a few books to the girl: "So what's you're name?"

"Oswin, the copy explained, "Well, it's Clara, legally. My parents are kind of square. Old family name. My last name's Oswald, and I could never say it right when I was a kid. So,people started calling my Oswin, to make fun of me, and it just sort of stuck. I've grown to love it. Besides, Oswin's much cooler than Clara."

Clara flushed red: "Yeah, I like it."

"What was your name again?" The copy shot her a sidelong glance.

"Susan Smith. This is my husband, John. He just got transferred out here for his job. I was going to school in London, but it seems the universe has other plans for us."

"You'll like San Diego, weather's awesome." She stood up. "Was there something in particular that you wanted to see?"

"Ummmm..." Clara stumbled.

"Actually," replied the Doctor, "We just walked around campus, but we've got a bit turned around. Can you point us to the nearest bus stop?"

She looked a little confused.

"I thought you said you needed someone to show you the campus?"

"Yeah. Sorry, I've just noticed the time, and I've got to meet with a big...ummm...clienty person, soon."

The copy looked the Doctor up and down, her expression scrutinizing.

"Look, dude. I'm pretty good at reading people. Call it a sixth sense. You've never worked in an office in your life."

"Yes, I have! See! Says so right here!"

He pulled out his slightly psychic paper.

"It's just a bunch of squiggly lines." The copy placed her hands on her hips and gave him a doubting look.

"_Of course_," thought the Doctor. They were in Clara's memory banks. You can't influence someone's mind _inside their mind_.

"John! You've lost your license!" Clara chimed in, taking the paper from his hands. Just in time, as usual. She turned to the echo: "Sorry, but we really have to go find it!"

"Yeah, sure." Oswin looked skeptical.

"_Nice to meet you_!" chirped Clara and the Doctor simultaneously.

They turned to rush off, but just as they got a few feet away, the copy Clara called after them.

"It was nice to meet you, Doctor!"

Clara nearly screamed.

"How did she know it was you?" Clara whispered as they ran.

"How did any of them know it was me? Some kind of residual psychic imprint from when you..." he faltered, "I didn't introduce myself to all of them. I never even saw some of them, but they all knew it was me when the time came to save my life."

They approached a park bench under a palm tree. The Doctor gestured to it.

"Here. Sit down. You need to concentrate so we can move to another time, to another memory. We still need to find the Gallifreyan."

"My heart's racin'. I can't concentrate."

"You have to. Here." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Breathe with me."

They continued for a minute, breathing in and out, until her heart rate settled.

"Now close your eyes. See that leaf again, blowing in the wind."

The leaf materialized more quickly than before.

"Good you're learning to control yourself. Now try to concentrate on the Timelady. Let the leaf lead you to her."

The leaf began to spin again, and once more they were falling, blown along with it. Only this time, there were words in the distance. Whispers in the tunnel, all saying the same word.

"_Doctor...Doctor?...Doctor_!"

They sounded like bees buzzing. Thousands of cries from thousands of lives, all crying out for him. She was dying all around them, every single echo. The only thing that strung them all together: saving the Doctor. The noise was breaking Clara's concentration.

"Come on Clara! Focus! You can do this. I know you can!" the Doctor shouted as they fell.

"I can't!" choked Clara, "It hurts! I'm dying!"

"It's not you, my impossible girl. I've got you! You're safe!"

The cries moved from whispers, to shouts, to screams. It was terrible. The full extent of the sacrifice Clara had made struck him in his hearts. He remembered what it was like: dying all at once, at every point in time. She had taken his place, taken all that pain away. Taken it on herself.

One scream grew louder than the others. Piercing through the tunnel. It was high and shrill, almost mechanical.

"_No_," the Doctor thought, "_Please. Anyone but her._"

But it was too late. Clara's head snapped to the right, following the sound. They sped towards it. The light enveloped them once more, as they tumbled into another world.

They crashed through something wooden. Splinters and nails laid littered around them. The smell of something baking permeated the air cut with the smell of burnt bread and motor oil. Clara coughed and shook sawdust from her hair. The Doctor dusted off his lapels. They both found themselves staring at a pair of red sneakers.

"Well...you're not Daleks, but with a chin like that, you're certainly not human."

End of Chapter 4

**A/N: **_Heeheehee. I really want Clara to meet Oswin (the one we saw on the show). I can't wait to write the banter between those two characters. My Oswin character is based on the echo we saw running after the Second Doctor in a park with palm trees. I wanted to tell the story of at least one of the echos who didn't really say much. I used my history major skills to fill in the rest! (University of California, Berkley was the center for a lot of the Students for a Democratic Society's free speech movement. Somehow, I thought one of the Clara echoes would get involved with that kind of thing.) _

_Thank you so much to anyone who read, followed, favorited, or reviewed this fic. You all have a special place in my heart(s)! Please remember, if you do like what you read, please favorite, follow, or review! . _

_-xoxo Jenna _


	5. Chapter 5: Milk, Eggs, and Flour

_**Previously: **They crashed through something wooden. Splinters and nails laid littered around them. The smell of something baking permeated the air cut with the smell of burnt bread and motor oil. Clara coughed and shook sawdust from her hair. The Doctor dusted off his lapels. They both found themselves staring at a pair of red sneakers. _

"_Well...you're not Daleks, but with a chin like that, you're certainly not human." _

**Chapter 5: Milk, Eggs, and Flour**

The Doctor felt a chill begin at the back of his spine as his eyes scanned upward from the pair of red sneakers and gazed, for the first time, into the eyes of Oswin Oswald.

"_So, that's what she looked like,_" the Doctor thought, ruefully, "_Pretty. For a Dalek._"

He knew she would have Clara's face, but there was something unique about this echo. She had style and an overwhelming presence. He could feel that, even when he had seen her in a cage of metal. Looking at her face did not make him more accepting of her fate.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you. Been a long time since I've talked to anyone, besides myself and my mum...well, sort of."

She held a hand out to the Doctor. He grabbed it, and she helped him to his feet. This was Clara's memory, after all. To her, Oswin was human and her world as real as can be. He glanced around the room. Cozy, comfortable. He could even smell Oswin's last attempt at a souffle. Burnt. Her hand was warm. He let go too quickly; it was all too unsettling. She noted his discomfort and gave him a wary glance.

"Okay, then. What's your name, Chin?"

"I'm Doctor James McCrimmon, and this is my assistant, Zoe," he lied smoothly.

"A Doctor, huh? Well, then. You can give me a check-up anytime-"

Clara cleared her throat, not wanting _that _sentence to continue. Oswin turned to look at her.

"Oi! I was flirting-"She caught sight of Clara's face. "Woah."

The women stared at each other.

"Okay...level one thousand on the freak-o-meter," Oswin murmured as she moved around Clara in a circle, "How is this even possible. As far as I know, I'm an only child."

"Cosmic twins and all that," Clara evaded.

"No, we're not cosmic twins. I have this entire place wired. I get signals from everywhere. According to that," Oswin pointed at a series of flashing lights on the motherboard, "Our DNA shares similar patterns. Almost exactly the same. Like sisters, but even closer. I don't think there's a word for this kind of genetic relationship."

She ran back to the read outs and scanned them excitedly before turning back to Clara. She stood within a hair's breadth of her face.

"What are you?"

Clara looked to the Doctor for help. He stepped forward and grabbed Oswin's shoulders, turn her away from Clara.

"What we are is lost, and we need to be going now."

"Go where? Can I come with you? I've been stuck here five months, now. Pretty keen to be moving on. I didn't see any foreign objects on my readouts, just some kind of energy activity. Have you got a ship or something? "

"Or something..." the Doctor muttered with a worried look.

He should have thought of this. Five months, she'd have been converted long ago. If she tried to come with them, he'd have to crumble her world _again_. He wasn't sure he had the strength. So the Doctor did what he always did when the answer wasn't clear. He stalled.

"We're waiting for transport. Could be a while. We were on an exploratory mission. Got here in a gravity bubble, not a ship. We need to wait for the call from the rest of the crew. Right, Clara?"

"Mmmhmm...yeah, sure...gravity whosywhatsit...yeah."

"You sound really professional," Oswin mocked.

"Only the best," quipped the Doctor. He sniffed the air. More stalling.

"Is something baking?"

"Hmmm?" Oswin turned to the small kitchen, "Oh, yeah. My mum's souffle. Well, I baked it but it's her recipe. Didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped."

"I'm rather good at baking," the Doctor suggested, "And Zoe here is a souffle expert. Mind if we have a go while we wait for the mothership? Could kill some time."

"Ummm, sure." Oswin gave a doubtful smirk.

She strode over to the kitchen and began pulling out ingredients. Flour, milk, eggs. All fresh, as if they'd been bought at the store that morning. She never even questioned it.

"_Better to live in the fantasy than cope with the reality. I know that all too well,_" the Doctor thought.

Oswin began to measure out the flour, but before she was finished Clara tapped her on the shoulder. She wasn't accustomed to being disturbed while making souffles, and the touch made her jump. Flower puffed out everywhere, coating Oswin's face and Clara's arm in white dust. The two women stared at each other for a moment in complete shock, before the Doctor burst out laughing. Clara and Oswin turned around both folding their arms across their chests.

"Oswin?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"I think he's laughing at us."

"Yes, I rather think he is."

"Well, that's simply not to be borne, is it?"

"No, it certainly is it."

The Doctor barely had time to protest before a bowl full of flour was dumped over his head.

"I...you..." he spluttered, "Oh, that's it!"

He grabbed a hand-full of flour from the floor and threw it. The trio descended into giggles, trying to throw flour at each other but, instead, throwing it all over the kitchen.

"No! Truce! Truce!" Clara giggled, as the Doctor growled playfully and picked her up.

He laughed and spun her around.

"Alright. Truce."

She slapped him on the back as he put her down. A cloud of flour puffed off of his jacket. Oswin was laying on the floor, still laughing uncontrollably. She finally calmed herself, gasping for breath.

"I haven't laughed that hard in..." she brushed her hair out of her eyes as she sat up, "In... I can't actually remember the last time that I laughed."

"_Do you know how you make someone into a Dalek_?" the Doctor remembered, "_Subtract love, add anger._"

Oswin's brow furrowed and her hand shot to her temple. She let out a hiss of pain. The Doctor and Clara immediately knelt next to her.

"Are you alright?" asked Clara, placing her hand on Oswin's shoulder.

"Yeah, just a..a headache. I get them sometimes. It's funny, actually. I think I must have a calcium deficiency because I usually get them when I run out of milk. Which is strange, I suppose, because I have plenty milk right now."

As if to reassure herself, she strode to the refrigerator and opened the door.

"No...no...that can't be right." Oswin's voice was quiet, scared. The refrigerator was completely empty.

"It was there. A minute ago. It was there. I put some on the..." she looked toward the counter. It was bare.

"But the milk, the eggs, the flour...we were..." She looked down her clothes, then to the Doctor and Clara. They were spotless.

"What is going on?"

The Doctor strode to Oswin and helped her into a chair. He knelt in front of her, framing her face in his hands.

"Oswin, everything is alright. You just have to concentrate. There's a refrigerator full of milk in there."

"But there isn't!" she protested, her voice beginning to break. There were tears in her eyes.

Clara didn't know what to do. Seconds ago, everything had been wonderful. She had met the clever, funny, amazing girl the Doctor had described. She was afraid she was about to meet the thing that girl had become.

"Just see them, Oswin. They're there. They always were."

"I can't just imagine that they're there! If imagine them, then how can they be real?" Oswin shoved the Doctor's hand from her face and leapt to her feet. The Doctor stumbled back. Clara knew the look on his face. Utter terror. Something bad was coming.

"It's not real, is it? NONE OF IT'S REAL!" Oswin screamed.

"Oswin, please," Clara moved forward, but the Doctor held her back.

Oswin did not miss the gesture.

"Holding her back now, are you? What's going on? Where are we?"

She ran around the room looking for an answer, finding none. She flicked switches, flicked through papers, her eyes settled on an empty vase on one of the tables. It had just been holding a bouquet of roses. Oswin let out a shriek of frustration and threw it at the wall.

"WHERE AM I?!" she shouted over the sound of breaking china.

She collapsed to a heap on the floor. Her hands over her ears, sobbing. She was shaking.

"I don't know where I am," she whispered, "I don't know...where...who... What am I?"

The Doctor crept towards the small girl, "Oswin.."

"What am I?" she asked more clearly. She looked at him, pleadingly.

He couldn't answer. She turned away.

"All the milk...the eggs...where did they? ...The eggs...eggs...eggs."

The Doctor knew what was coming.

"Clara?" he said, breaking their cover.

"Doctor?" She was worried.

"We need to get out, now." He moved backwards slowly.

Oswin was rocking back and forth. Something started banging on the door. Pounding and shrieking with high metallic cries.

"Doctor, what is that?"

"Eggs...stir..."

"Clara. Take my hand. Now"

"Why? Doctor, what's wrong with her?"

"Exter...min..ate. Exterminate." Oswin was standing up slowly. She turned to face them. Her eyes were not bright and laughing, as they had been a minute before. They were cold, dead.

"Exterminate."

The Doctor grabbed Clara's hand.

"RUN!"

_**A/N: **Sorry this took more than a day to update. I've got a lot going on right now. With this chapter I was really toying with the idea that Oswin's fantasy had broken before the Doctor ever came to call. I believe she could have rebuilt it for herself several times. Also, if anyone's wondering why Oswin appeared as a girl instead of a Dalek, it's because the Doctor and Clara are exploring her memories. Her memories as Oswin would have mostly consisted of that imaginary world, not of what she really was. Thank you all for reading, and don't forget, if you liked it, please favorite, follow, or review! _

_-xoxo Jenna _


	6. Chapter 6: A Hand to Hold

_**Previously: **Clara Oswald's past has been leaking into her present, putting her life in danger. The Doctor and Clara must travel through the maze of Clara's memories to find the mind of a Timelady, locked somewhere in her subconscious. Can the past save Clara's future? _

_(from Chapter 5) _

"_We need to get out, now." He moved backwards slowly. _

_Oswin was rocking back and forth. Something started banging on the door. Pounding and shrieking with high metallic cries. _

"_Doctor, what is that?"_

"_Eggs...stir..." _

"_Clara. Take my hand. Now" _

"_Why? Doctor, what's wrong with her?" _

"_Exter...min..ate. Exterminate." Oswin was standing up slowly. She turned to face them. Her eyes were not bright and laughing, as they had been a minute before. They were cold, dead. _

"_Exterminate." _

_The Doctor grabbed Clara's hand. _

"_RUN!" _

**Chapter 6: A Hand to Hold **

"Run WHERE?" yelled Clara. They were in a tiny room, there was nowhere to run _to_.

"Just trust me!"

The pair took off. Clara was shocked as the kitchen expanded into a corridor. The room was melting away. The walls became a stark, clinical white. The cozy chairs and whirring and blinking devices of Oswin's hideaway disappeared.

"_Of course_", thought Clara, "_It was all a dream. I was remembering a dream. This must have been when I woke up._"

The Doctor pressed her into a corner.

"Doctor! Personal space!"

"We're being chased by Daleks, and you're worried about personal space? Priorities, Clara."

She frowned, he had a point.

"Hold my hands and close your eyes."

Clara did as he asked. She felt a sharp pull in the center of her stomach and suddenly felt something hard against her back. She opened her eyes, feeling shaky, as if she'd just come up after holding her breath underwater. The Dalek asylum was gone, and Clara found herself staring at the ceiling of the TARDIS.

"What happened? How did we get back here."

"I broke the connection," the Doctor replied, grimly, "Too dangerous."

She put her hand to her forehead. The silver circlet was still on her head, but the thread of metal that had connected her to the Doctor was snapped in two.

"What are we going to do now?"

"Half a minute," the Doctor pulled the circlet from her head and ran down the steps.

Clara could have sat back in the chair. It was right there, but she didn't. She just pulled her knees into her chest and curled up like a child. She knew her echoes weren't entirely her. They'd all had their own lives and experiences, but she also had their memories. They were a part of her. She thought of how people always used to talk about bad things and say "a part of me died that day." So many parts of her had died she wasn't sure how much of her was really left. She thought of Oswin's eyes, before the illusion had faded. Clara had always loved her big, brown eyes. Brown eyes could be flat and dull, but hers had always been bright and inquisitive: her favorite feature for many years. She didn't think she would ever think of them the same way after seeing them so cold and lifeless. The Doctor's footsteps were on the stairs. Clara hastily wiped tears from her eyes.

"I couldn't fix the old one, but I used the Arch-Recon to make a new one. Hopefully, it'll work the same way."

He caught sight of Clara's position, and his face fell. He placed the mind connector on the console and moved to sit beside her. He said nothing, waiting until she was ready.

"You know, Doctor," she sniffed, "I'm beginning to think it might have been better if I had just let you take it all away from me." Her voice broke and he watched a tear slide down her cheek.

"When my mum died, I thought my world ended, but going back through those memories, I see all that I've lost: people, places, whole lifetimes of them. All I can think is, what's the point of holding onto it all if it only causes pain."

She turned back to the Doctor, not bothering to hide her tears. His age showed on his face again, and for the first time, he noticed, so did hers.

"You know how people say they know how you feel, and it's usually a load of rubbish?"

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. He placed his hand on her shoulder.

"This time, I really do know how you feel. I tell people that I don't die, don't age, but when I regenerate, everything that I am dies. It _feels _like dying, but there's no rest for me. I never sleep, I only..._move forward_, because that's all I can do.

There have been so many times in my life, where I thought, ʻ_Just don't do it this time. Just die. Don't regenerate. Finally, end it_ʼ, but you know what? I'm glad I never listened to myself. I've done so much, learned so much, become _so much more_ than what I was when I began. I've met so many people who have changed my life for the better. Sure, it's awful when they leave, but I never, _ever _regret that I was able to meet them. It never stops the pain from the bad times, but the good times become just as important, just as defining.

A wise woman once told me ʻsome things are worth getting your heart brokenʼ. Everyone that's ever travelled with me: Rose, Martha, Donna, Sarah-Jane, Amy, Rory, _You_. _You_ make me better. You all make it worthwhile.

You'll find what makes it worthwhile for you, Clara."

She smiled, just a little.

"Maybe, I already have."

They gazed at each other, wordlessly. He really did understand. She knew him better than everyone. The one constant in all her lives, just as she was the one constant in all of his.

Then, because he understood, because he was the only thing that felt steady, because she loved him: she leaned forward. Against his usual nature, he followed her lead, and they slid into a kiss.

His lips against hers were comforting, even if his colder body temperature was a little bit unsettling. The kiss wasn't heated or lustful. It was just two people, holding each other to shelter against the storm that had rocked them both for centuries, clutching tight to the reason that kept them whole. They drew strength from each other, courage. It wasn't worth it to go it alone, and they had each other.

For a brief second, she thought she could see a burnt-orange sky and silver trees. She thought she heard whispers an a foreign but beautiful tongue. This memory wasn't scary. It felt like coming home.

He pulled away. The kiss ended, but he still held her hand.

She had a feeling he'd be doing that a lot. The shadow of a memory stirred in the back of her mind. The TARDIS library. An encyclopedia kept in bottles. "_Gallifreyans aren't physical beings. They are creatures of energy and require very little physical contact to feel close to others, unlike many more primitive species. The touch of one hand to another is a significant enough act to imply love and protection._"

"Clara, I don't usually-" he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

"You don't have to explain yourself. I know."

He looked at her for a moment. Braveheart, Clara. She'd never cease to surprise him. He stood and helped her to her feet. He never let go of her hand.

"We can try to continue tomorrow," the Doctor suggested, "You could use some sleep."

"So could you." She traced the dark circles that were under his eyes.

"Can't. I've got work to do. I've got to calibrate the mind connector. Make sure everything is perfect."

He bustled off to the console with his sonic screwdriver at the ready. Clara giggled. Some things would never change.

"Night then."

He stopped what he was doing and turned to smile at her.

"Good night, my impossible girl."

As Clara walked down the corridor to her bedroom, she felt a wave of exhaustion was over her. Suddenly the thought of her dad's old sweater and her favorite flannel pajama pants (the ones with sheep on them) sounded more appealing than the finest silk. She changed quickly, brushed her teeth, and ran a comb through her hair. She'd shower in the morning, to prepare herself for another long day.

Clara shuffled to the big bed in the center of her room, making note of the fact that she'd never cleaned up those books. The girl who'd scattered them all over the floor, the day before Trenzalore, had been a completely different person than the one who now glanced at them with a frown. She picked up the one book left on the shelf. The one book she would never carelessly toss on the floor. She took her mother's copy of "101 Places to See" to bed with her. The impossible girl needed an old friend tonight. Clara parted the gauzy bed hangings and snuggled under the covers, placing the book by her head. She liked to think that, by having it near, her mother would watch over her extra closely, keeping the bad dreams away.

Her mother must have been busy. As soon as she closed her eyes, the nightmares started. The high, keening screams of the Daleks, running down a dark alley, a knife through her ribs, an energy blast to her back. Lives and deaths flashed before her closed eyes.

The Doctor was sleeping, slumped over the console, when he heard her scream.

"Clara!"

He ran down the hall, arms and legs flailing.

He burst into the room to find her with her knees tucked up to her chest again and her hands on her face. She was sobbing.

"Clara. Clara, it's alright." He climbed into bed next to and held her tight. "It's alright. I've got you." He stroked her hair and planted a kiss on the top of her head. She was shaking.

"There's someone behind me."

"It was a dream, Clara. A nightmare."

She looked up at him with tearful eyes.

"Make it go away, Doctor. Please, make it go away."

"We'll make them go away, Clara. Together."

He cuddled her into his chest and held her until she calmed down. She pulled away, wiping at her eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. That was...not nice."

"Should I go back to the console room?" He moved away a little, giving her space.

"No! Not yet."

"Alright."

He leaned back against the headboard. She was snuggled under the blankets, while he sat on top of them.

"Doctor?"

"Hmmm?"

"Remember the first night we met?"

"Yes"

"You were guarding me?"

"I remember."

"Think you could do it again? I don't want to be alone."

He reached out to take hold of her hand. She was hot and flushed after the nightmare. The coolness of his skin was a comfort.

"You're not alone. Ever."

_End of Chapter 6_

_**A/N: **Thank you so much for your patience this weekend! I'm all moved into my new room, so chapters will be coming more regularly now. Hope you enjoyed all the Whouffle cuteness! More running and adventure up next! _

_-xoxo Jenna _


	7. Chapter 7: Shell-Shocked

_**Previously: **The Doctor and Clara have been travelling through Clara's memories in an attempt to save the Impossible Girl. Her mind is burning with the echoes of a thousand lives, and they need to find a Timelady from her past to help her. After witnessing the horrible fate of Oswin Oswald, the Doctor and Clara enjoyed a few moments of precious quiet. _

"_It was a dream, Clara. A nightmare." _

_She looked up at him with tearful eyes. _

"_Make it go away, Doctor. Please, make it go away." _

"_We'll make them go away, Clara. Together." _

_He cuddled her into his chest and held her until she calmed down. She pulled away, wiping at her eyes. "Are you alright?" _

"_Yeah. That was...not nice." _

"_Should I go back to the console room?" He moved away a little, giving her space._

"_No! Not yet." _

"_Alright." _

_He leaned back against the headboard. She was snuggled under the blankets, while he sat on top of them. _

"_Doctor?" _

"_Hmmm?" _

"_Remember the first night we met?" _

"_Yes" _

"_You were guarding me?" _

"_I remember." _

"_Think you could do it again? I don't want to be alone." _

_**Chapter 7: Shell-Shock **_

You can't tell what time it was in the TARDIS, and that was the point, Clara supposed. Time just didn't exist here. Her eyes fluttered open to the sight of a lot of purple tweed, very close to her face: the Doctor's jacket. She must have snuggled up to him at some point during the night. Her head was nestled on his thigh, her nose nearly buried in his jacket-pocket. She noticed that her fingers had curled around the chain of his fob watch. She'd expected to wake up and find the Doctor gone, off doing something important. Even if they'd kissed, she didn't expect anything to really change. Because that was just how he was. She did not expect to find herself curled around him, her head practically in his lap. The Doctor didn't seem to mind. He was awake. She could her him turning the pages of another book. One of his arms was slung around her shoulders.

"_A girl could get used to this_," Clara thought, "_Snuggly Timelords_."

She began to sit up. The Doctor moved his arm away as she disentangled herself from him. Clara looked so funny in the morning. Her hair was tangled. Her cheek bore a red mark that resembled the woven pattern of his trousers. She rubbed her eyes as the Doctor chuckled.

"Morning, sunshine" he said. His tone was warm with affection.

She smirked, "Morning to you, too. See you didn't sleep."

"I usually don't."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Timelords don't need a whole lot of sleep. Our bodies have evolved past the need for a nightly recharge. Gets even easier to stay awake as we age. I really only need to close my eyes for a few minutes now."

"Well I still need my eight hours... which I clearly came out of looking a little worse for wear."

She patted her head in an attempt to fix the mess that was her hair. He placed his hand over hers and intertwined their fingers. He brought their joined hands down to rest in his lap.

"You look beautiful. Always. Besides, you're funny when you sleep?"

"I'm funny?"

"Yeah! You curl up into a little ball like a puppy. You grunt and your eyebrows move up and down, like you're having a conversation with someone."

"Probably talking to the Easter bunny or something," she giggled. He smirked.  
They both fell silent. Morning cuteness aside, Clara knew what had to happen today and what it would mean. She glanced down at the Doctor's hand in hers. She was glad she wasn't alone.

"Clara, are you ready?"

"I think I've got to be. Just let me get dressed and everything."

"Of course. You'll be just fine, my impossible girl." He kissed the hand he was holding, and turned to leave the room.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," she said with a smile.

"For what?"

"For holding my hand"

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he turned and left.

A few minutes later, Clara was toweling off her wet hair, and trying to keep the butterflies in her stomach from turning into rocks. She didn't want to go back into her memories. When she and the Doctor had first delved into the recesses of her mind, she had been fascinated, but now, she was terrified. After seeing the awful fate that had awaited Oswin Oswald she wondered how many of her echoes had died in equally or even more terrifying circumstances? Clara pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft, dark green sweater. Might as well be comfortable. She didn't bother to put on make up or fix her hair. A ponytail would do for today's work. One last glance in the mirror. Pale. She was too pale, but, then again, she had reason to be.

When she came upon the console room, she found the Doctor already in position, seated across from her empty chair. The silver circlet of the mind connector rested on his brow. He held the other half of the machine in his lap.

The Doctor noted Clara's expression."_She looks like a convict sentenced to hang,_"

"Are you ready?"

She glanced down at him with a doubtful look.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready, but I am out of time, aren't I? There's no telling when I'll have another episode, and then next one could be my last, couldn't it?"

The Doctor nodded.

"Well, then."

She sat down in the chair opposite him, and closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling and exhaling through her nose in an attempt to calm herself. She opened her eyes and extended her hand. He could see her fingers shaking as he handed her the other silver circlet. She placed it on her head, and for a moment it felt as heavy as a real crown, burdened with unimaginable responsibility.

"Okay. Here we go." She closed her eyes again.

"Wait, Clara, before we start...I've been thinking about something that could help us."

Her eyes opened.

"What?"

"A way to focus us, so we can find the Timelady more quickly."

"What do you have in mind?"

He held up his hand. Clara's brow knitted in confusion, but as she watched, tiny yellow sparks crackled at the Doctor's fingertips. The sparks brightened into a golden glow.

"Regeneration energy. A form of this energy existed on Gallifrey. Helped to make my people into what they were. It's all I've got left of my planet, apart from the TARDIS. We might be able to use it as a channel to hone in on Gallifrey and the Timelady, if we can partner it with this."

He held out her leaf.

"This is your connection to your past lives and this is my connection to home. If we combine the two, they could conduct our mental energy in a more specific direction. What do you think?"

She took the leaf from his hand.

"Worth a shot."

"Alright then, hold the leaf in your hand, with your palm up."

She did as she was asked. He slid his glowing hand on top of hers.

"Now. Close your eyes, and imagine the leaf. Just like before"

The leaf appeared almost instantaneously. The connection must have been getting stronger. As Clara watched, a golden light began to enfold the leaf, swirling around it. It glowed brighter and brighter until the golden energy shot down the tunnel like a spotlight. She heard the Doctor's voice.

"_Follow it._"

She could feel them moving quickly through the dark, hurtling faster and faster. She could hear the murmurings and screams of her thousand lives, but they moved so fast that all the sounds just blended together.

Clara once again found herself sprawled on the ground. She opened her eyes. The light was different. It was the first thing she noticed. It wasn't yellow, like sunlight, more of a reddish-orange color. She could see the red undertones of the hair that had fallen into her face glinting in it. Her eyes scanned up walls of smooth, white stone to see a high, vaulted ceiling. It looked like a room from a fairytale castle. Though, as she stood, she could see that the furniture and appliances that were scattered around the room weren't very fairytale. They were futuristic, sleek and twisted into elegant but also functional shapes. Clara could hear a faint rustling, like leaves in the wind. She felt a breeze brush the edge of her ponytail. It was coming from behind her. She turned.

An entire wall was occupied by an open window. It swept out onto a terrace that overlooked the glass dome of the citadel and the sweeping fields of silver tress and red grass that lay beyond. But, there was something blocking the view. A small figure stood at the railing of the terrace looking outward.

"So, you've finally found me then?"

The figure turned and Clara found herself staring at her own face, again.

"Took you long enough," the woman said with a smile.

"We're you expecting me?"

"Of course. I've always been expecting you. Ever since I realized what I am, where I came from. No human brain could ever process information from a thousand lifetimes. You need a Timelady to save your skin. Well, you've come to the right place."

"Is this?"

"Gallifrey? Yes. This is Gallifrey," she gestured out the window, "Planet of the Timelords. The Shining World of the Seven Systems. You're in the Citadel of the Timelords right now. Sorry, it's not the nicest part. We're in the mechanic's lounge."

"_This _is the lounge?"

"Bigger on the inside," the Timelady offered up in explanation.

"It's absolute beautiful."

"It was."

"What's your name?" Clara asked without thinking, "Sorry! Do you...can you?"

"I'm called Idothea."

"Is that your real name?"

"Does it matter?"

"S'pose not."

"Enough with the niceties. Let's get to why you really came here."

"I'm not really sure how it all works. Doctor, can you-"

Clara turned to look at him. It was only then she realized, he'd been silent for a few minutes. A remarkable feat, considering his usual nature. As she glanced around the room, she found that there was an entirely reasonable explanation for his silence. The Doctor was nowhere to be found. She looked back to the Timelady in shock.

"He's not here," Idothea said with a blank expression.

"I can see that. Where is he?" Clara began to move toward the door.

"I blocked him."

Clara froze and turned to her double.

"I'm sorry?"

"I blocked him. Kept him out of my memory space. He's not welcome here."

"Not...welcome? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means he's not welcome here, and for good reason."

"_What good reason_?!" Clara realized, too late, that she was shouting.

"Not all of us died saving him, you know," the Timelady's voice remained eerily calm.

"What?"

"Come here," Idothea placed a hand on Clara's shoulder guiding her to one of the sleek couches, "You'll be more comfortable."

"What do you mean you didn't all die saving him?"

"Some of us didn't need to sacrifice ourselves to protect the Doctor from the Great Intelligence. Some of us had smaller roles to play, a simple nudge in the right direction. I was one of them. The Great Intelligence had nearly tricked the Doctor into stealing the wrong TARDIS from the shop that I work in. The one he was after had a malfunctioning engine. He and his granddaughter would have blown up as soon as they entered the Vortex."

"So, he really did have a granddaughter?"

"Once. There's so much that you don't know about him."

"You could help me remember."

"I _could_. The question really is, will I?"

Clara was taken aback.

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Like I said, not all of us died saving him."

Idothea stood and walked back toward the terrace. Clara had had enough. She moved to block Idothea and stood so close to her that their noses were almost touching.

"You are speaking in riddles, and I'm tired of it. I'm alone and scared, and I'm dying. So don't play games with me."

"I didn't die saving the Doctor that day. I lived long past then. Kept on with my life. I got married, had a daughter, made a home for myself. Then one day, the Doctor came back, and I died."

"How did you die?"

"In a fire. I died, my friends died, my husband, my daughter. All of them. Gone in an instant in that fire. The last fire. The fire he started."

"_What do you mean_?!" T

The Timelady stared into Clara's eyes like she could see her soul through them.

"I won't help you because I hate the Doctor. He destroyed everything I loved. My family, my home. I died in the Last Great Time War, when the Doctor reduced Gallifrey to dust. My whole world burned in his inferno. I won't help you because he destroyed any chance I ever had at happiness," her eyes turned ice cold, "And _his _happiness will end with you."

_**End of Chapter 7**_

_A/N: I'm sorry that this took so long to update. I've been having a lot of family issues, and I needed to take care of them first. I promise more frequent updates in the future. Thanks to all for reading, reviewing, and re-blogging! _

_-xoxo Jenna _


	8. Chapter 8: Rights and Responsibilities

**Chapter 8: Rights and Responsibilities **

_Previously: "You could help me remember." _

"_I could. The question really is, will I?" _

_Clara was taken aback. _

"_Why wouldn't you?" _

"_Like I said, not all of us died saving him." _

_Idothea stood and walked back toward the terrace. Clara had had enough. She moved to block Idothea and stood so close to her that their noses were almost touching. _

"_You are speaking in riddles, and I'm tired of it. I'm alone and scared, and I'm dying. So don't play games with me." _

"_I didn't die saving the Doctor that day. I lived long past then. Kept on with my life. I got married, had a daughter, made a home for myself. Then one day, the Doctor came back, and I died." _

"_How did you die?" _

"_In a fire. I died, my friends died, my husband, my daughter. All of them. Gone in an instant in that fire. The last fire. The fire he started." _

"_What do you mean?!" _

_The Timelady stared into Clara's eyes like she could see her soul through them._

"_I won't help you because I hate the Doctor. He destroyed everything I loved. My family, my home. I died in the Last Great Time War, when the Doctor reduced Gallifrey to dust. My whole world burned in his inferno. I won't help you because he destroyed any chance I ever had at happiness," her eyes turned ice cold, "And his happiness will end with you." _

Clara fell back a step. Idothea brushed past her without another word, bumping Clara's shoulder as she swept out of the room. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening. This just could not be happening. After everything she'd gone through to get to where she was. It couldn't just _end_. Timelords were supposed to wise and kind. That's what the Doctor always said. He'd made Gallifrey sound like a perfect world where philosopher-kings ruled over a happy bunch of stuffy academics. This couldn't be right.

Still, Clara had seen the Doctor when he was angry. She knew the power and danger that came hand in hand with his rage. She had to admit, sometimes she was afraid of him, of what he could do. She'd always thought that was just the Doctor. That all he'd seen had somehow turned him a bit darker than his race. She'd been there from the very beginning. Clara knew about all his mistakes, the irrevocable damage that he had caused, and she had decided to forgive him. But maybe not all of her really did. Maybe, this part of her couldn't, and for good reason.

As Ideothea's footsteps faded into the hallway, a sudden rush of wind swept through the room. The Doctor appeared with a small _pop ,_sprawled on the floor.

"Unnnnnnnnhhhh." he groaned, "Wha' happened?" he asked his voice muffled by the floorboards.

Clara sunk down onto one of the sleek couches.

"She blocked you."

The Doctor's head snapped up.

"What?"

"She blocked you. She kept you out of the memory."

"What'd she do that for?"

Clara's whipped her head around in a flurry of brown hair to stare daggers at him.

"Did you even _think this through _before you dragged me here? Before you put me through all that pain? Did you even consider that maybe she wouldn't want to help?"

"Of course I didn't!" the Doctor hopped to his feet, "Why wouldn't she want to help you? Any decent person would."

"Just like any decent person wouldn't wipe out an entire civilization. Actually, make that _two_ civilizations!" Her voice was like ice.

The Doctor looked utterly bewildered for a moment, but tears filled his eyes as he began to understand. His voice came out in a harsh whisper:

"The Time War."

Clara threw her hands into the air.

"Yes! The_ mysterious _Time War. The thing you never speak about, even to me. Even to someone you..." She collected herself. "I've followed you. All of you. Every Doctor, but even I can't remember the Time War. I can't even feel a trace of a memory, and now I know why. She blocked it from me, just like she blocked you from the memory. It was too painful. What _you_ did was so awful that a dead woman made sure I wouldn't have to live with the horror of it."

The Doctor walked over to where Clara sat and knelt in front of her. He wanted to to take her hand, hold her tight, do something that would prove he hadn't lost her forever, but all he could do was stare into her eyes. His voice was desperate.

"Clara, that is all completely true. The Time War was horrible, so horrible. Millions upon millions sent into battle, unprepared and unwilling. The were sentenced to die before they ever set foot on the field, and after they did, they were resurrected again to suffer even worse fates. I can't describe it. _There are not words._ I did what I did because it was the lesser of two evils. I could have run away, never looked back, and let millions suffer for eternity in a war that could never be won. But I _took a stand_. _I said no_. It's a decision, I've had to deal with for many, many years, but I wouldn't change it. I might have destroyed two civilizations. I might have lost everything. But at least the war was over, and those who were suffering could finally be at peace. The only peace I could ever give them."

She was crying with him. Her eyes fixed on his. He thought maybe she understood. He wanted her to understand, but her words weren't words of understanding and forgiveness. Instead, she asked _the_ question. The one question that he could never answer. The one question that had haunted him from that fateful day.

"What gave you the right?"

He knew nothing he could ever say would answer that question. He wasn't sure if there even was an answer, and if there was, he wasn't sure he wanted to know it. So, he said the only thing he could.

"I don't know."

Clara slumped forward as she exhaled and placed her head in her hands.

"What are we going to do, Doctor?"

He reached out and rubbed her shoulders, thankful to be able to touch her again.

"We'll find a way. We will."

Clara looked up at him.

"But how?"

He was silent for a moment. She knew he was running through a million ideas in his head. His eyes suddenly lit up, and he smiled.

"I have a plan."

A few moments later, Clara was walking down a corridor in the center of the Gallifreyan citadel. She pulled awkwardly at the tunic the Doctor had stolen for her.

"_But why can't I just wear what I've got on?" _

"_Human's aren't allowed on Gallifrey. Step out there, wearing that, you'll start a riot!" _

The people brushing past her spoke in hushed tones. The language was beautiful, but foreign. It sounded like nothing on Earth. It was melodic, rolling off the tongue in notes and measures instead of phrases and sentences.

"_Gallifreyan doesn't translate,_" She thought. "_Idothea must have been speaking English for my benefit._"

She looked for the signs bearing the specific pattern of loops and swirls that the Doctor had shown her: Circular Gallifreyan for "TARDIS Maintenance." After taking a wrong turn, twice, Clara arrived at a set of doors marked with the proper symbol. She took a deep breath, and turned the knob.

Idothea was hunched over an endless tangle of wires and circuits. There were goggles over her eyes, shielding her from the sparks that we're flying off of the particular tangle she was working with.

"Just a minute!" she called to Clara.

English. Damnit. She really was good.

The sparks subsided, and Idothea pulled her googles off. She stood up from her stool and walked to Clara with a bounce in her step.

"Talked to him, have you?," she smirked, raising one eyebrow, "Well, go on then. What does he have to say?"

"_He_ doesn't have anything to say. _I_ have something to say. He doesn't own me. I'm have a life of my own, and I'm here to ask you to save it."

Idothea crossed her arms over her chest.

"You still don't get it, do you? There's nothing you can say that will change my mind. After all I've seen, all I've lost, you're lucky I didn't kill you on the spot, just on principle. You can never understand what he did to me."

"You're right. I can't understand. I'm not a mother. Still, I was a daughter. My mum was the greatest mum in the entire universe, and I lost her too soon. She was stolen from me. I can't ever tell you how much she meant to me...But, I can show you."

"Show me?"

"Look into my memories. I know you can."

"Why should I?"

"I'm dying, anyway. Think of this as a last request."

Idothea's eyes searched Clara's face intently.

"Fine."

The Timelady reached up and placed her hands on Clara's temples.

"This might be a little uncomfortable. Anything you don't want me to see, imagine a big wall in the way. Focus on anything that's really important."

_**Clara was five years old**. She had fallen off the swing and scraped her knee. She was crying, but she didn't want anyone to see. She'd limped behind the big maple tree at the park. That was where Ellie had found her. _

"_Clara? What are you doing back here, love?" _

"_I hurt my knee, and I'm crying," she whimpered, "Don't tell the other kids, mummy! They'll laugh at me." _

_Ellie sat down in the dirt and placed her arms around her daughter. _

"_Clara Oswald, you can always cry when you're hurting, and if anyone laughs at you, then you hold your chin up to the sky because you are right and they are wrong." _

_Ellie hugged her and hummed her favorite lullaby. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. _

_**Clara was ten years old. **She was wearing a ridiculous broccoli costume and was singing her solo in the school play about nutrition. Ellie had slaved for hours to make sure the funny, green leaves of the broccoli looked just right. When she finished singing, she saw her mother jump to her feet, wiping tears from her eyes. _

"_Brava! Brava, Clara! Brava!" _

_Clara could hear her father's cough of embarrassment. Clara's cheeks turned red but she smiled in spite of herself. _

_**Clara was thirteen years old. **She sat alone in her living room. It was the night of her very first school dance, and the boy she was supposed to dancing the night away with had stood her up. She played with the ruffles on her electric blue dress. Ellie peaked her head around the corner. _

"_Still no word, love?" _

"_He's not coming, mum. Why should he? He probably took one look at my pig nose and ran for the hills." _

"_You do not have a pig nose. You have a cute nose," Ellie chided as she sat down next to Clara. _

"_Says you." _

_Ellie made a face. _

"_Okay, Clara Oswald. I'm about to tell you a very womanly secret. You are about to indoctrinated into the most secret of girl clubs. Are you ready to undertake this great responsibility?" _

"_What?" _

"_Are you ready to undertake this great responsibility?" Ellie asked with more urgency. _

"_All right! Yes. Fine. What is this secret club?" _

"_The boys are stupid, but ice cream and cheezy movies are not club. Every woman joins this club at a certain point in her life. Congratulations, Clara, you've joined an elite society. Now, you must put on the robes of the sisterhood." _

"_The robes of the what?" Clara giggled. _

"_The ceremonial robes of our order. Namely, fluffy jimjams and cozy socks. Now, off you pop!" _

_Clara was still smiling after two tubs of Chunky Monkey, and three horrific slasher movies. _

_**Clara was sixteen years old. **It was the worst night of her life. Shopping bags lay ripped open on the ground, their glittering contents spewed all over the street. Broken glass crunched under the feet of those who were still running. The window dummies had come to life. They'd gotten up and moved! People had been laughing at the trick, until the dummies started firing from the guns they had hidden in their hands. Clara and Ellie had been running, but something had caught Clara's eye along the way. A man in a leather jacket and a blonde woman, not running away from the mayhem but running toward it. They must have known somewhere safe to hide to be so sure of themselves. _

"_Mum! Follow me!" Clara tried to yell over the sound of shots and people screaming. She turned and ran after the couple, following them down an alley before they ran out of sight. Suddenly, she was alone. She'd left her mum behind. This was not good. The sound of mechanical footsteps echoed on the pavement. Clara tried to run, but the alley ended in a pair of locked doors. How had the couple gotten through? The footsteps grew closer. The monster marched around the corner, and began to walk toward her. It was raising its arm. The front part of its hand dropped down, revealing the gun beneath. _

_Clara shut her eyes and imagined herself far away in one of the places from her favorite book. She waited for the sound of the gun. Instead she heard her mother's panicked voice. _

"_Clara! Clara! Where are you?!" _

_Her mother appeared at the end of the alley. Before Clara could scream, the creature turned. The sound of the laser pierced the air. Clara watched in slow motion as the fear on her mother's face, faded into confusion, and then into pain. She crumpled and fell to the ground in a heap. _

"_Mum!" Clara screamed. It sounded muffled as a bizarre humming filled her ears. She stumbled down the alley, not even noticing that the creature was convulsing, stopped by some invisible source. She just wanted her mum. _

_She knelt beside Ellie, holding her gloved and in her own. Ellie's eyes were still open in shock. _

"_Mum?" Clara's voice broke as she tried to shake her mother awake. Maybe it was just a stun gun, like in the movies. _

"_Mum? Please wake up. Please? Please, mummy. Please. Just wake up. For me, mummy. Do it for me." _

_Sobs began to wrack her body as she closed Ellie's eyes forever. _

"_I'm sorry, mummy. It's my fault. All my fault." _

_Her cries were muffled as the sound of police sirens filled the air. _

Idothea pulled her fingers away from Clara's temples with a sharp gasp. For a moment, there was only the sound of their labored breathing.

"The man in the leather jacket?" Idothea began

"His ninth regeneration. He never even noticed me following him that night. In a way, that night was a new beginning for him. The night he ran with Rose Tyler. A happy memory. It was the worst night of my life."

"Does he know?"

"No. This wasn't part of the plan, but I like to improvise. I was supposed to show you happy memories of my mum. Melt your heart with her kindness. I figured this would be more effective."

Idothea could only stare.

"You're not the only one who's lost everything in the Doctor's wake. There have been so many. Incidental casualties. He doesn't always see them, but I think he feels the weight of all those lives, somewhere deep down. That's what a lot of people don't understand about the Doctor. He's not perfect. He's not a god. He's just a man trying to do good, and sometimes he falls very far from that purpose. What's important, is that he keeps trying. He keeps_ me_ trying, and that's why I can forgive him, even love him, after everything that I've lost at his hand."

Idothea stared straight into Clara's eyes. Clara thought she could see something in them, a crack in the stone.

"Idothea, I am begging you. Save my life. Don't make me another one of his casualties. I want to live, for him, for my mum. She gave up everything for me, and she didn't know it. I can't just throw that away."

A tear slid down Idothea's cheek as her eyes flicked from the ground to Clara's face. The crack in the stone splintered and broke.

"All right. In honor of my family and yours, I will help you."

_A/N: Thank you all so much for being patient with me for the past two weeks. Sadly, the family situation did not get any better, and this piled on top of me moving to a different continent. Not to mention the fact that when I move to said continent, the airline lost all of my things and then my internet broke. I was kind of Miss Murphy's Law. But fear not! I did not forget you, my beautiful readers! This chapter is extra long for you. I hope you enjoyed my personal headcanon about how Ellie died. (The date listed on her tombstone coincides with the first air date of the New Who series.) Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for supporting this fic! Remember, if you liked what you read, please favorite, follow, and **review**! Thank, bbys! _


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